Honeydrop
by mantisbelle
Summary: When he was sixteen years old, Hazel was informed of his sister's death. When he was ten years old, Hazel learned that his sister was not a normal girl.
1. Then

A full year had passed since Hazel and Gretchen had first found themselves alone in the world.

Maybe not completely alone, but alone all the same.

After _everything_ that had happened, finding a way to carve a way of life out of close to nothing was _hard._ They could lean on the nearest village to a certain degree, but Hazel and Gretchen had always wanted to try and do it on their own. Their only family had dried up years before.

All that the two of them had left was ultimately each other, and their father's old cabin.

Despite all of that, the two of them did their best to make their existence, though.

Holding it together for his sister's sake had been the hardest thing that Hazel _ever _had to do in his entire life, but he managed to find a way. The same way that Gretchen did the same for him.

The ordeal had quickly turned into an impromptu education in survival. It hadn't been long before they'd been out of food, and how Grimm never clawed their ways to their doorstep Hazel wasn't entirely sure of. A part of him knew that any grimm would have been quickly taken care of anyways, but still he feared it.

What he and Gretchen were doing wasn't _living _though. It was only surviving.

The only thing that made the two of them decide to try and find somewhere else to live was that they were getting older, and living in the woods wasn't something that could last them forever. They both needed to find opportunities outside of forest living. They needed futures, they needed _something_ that wasn't subsiding on foraged foods and whatever Gretchen had managed to hunt down for the two of them.

Hazel folded a shirt and placed it in the bottom of an old crate that he and his sister had managed to find in town, all while Gretchen chattered away.

"You know—" She said, smiling as she folded a blanket into a sloppy shape that only really managed to loosely resemble a square. "I don't think we've ever been to Vale."

"We haven't." Hazel grumbled, more focused on the task at hand than anything else.

Gretchen groaned. "I could have sworn that we went with—"

Hazel looked over at her and she quieted down all at once. The same realization settling over them both.

"You're right." Gretchen relented, almost shrinking in on herself over the realization of what had just happened. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault." Hazel replied, placing another piece of folded clothing down in the crate. It tasted like a bitter lie on his tongue. She approached him with the blanket and set it down on top of what he'd just put in, even though it didn't make all that much sense for their things to be packed in that way.

Gretchen sighed. "I know." She replied, turning back to begin folding again. "I just hate that it has to be like this."

And that Hazel could agree with. They'd lived in the little shack in the woods for their entire lives, always the same shack. It had belonged to their father, and then his father before him, and then back so long that Hazel didn't even know how long it had been in their family.

One day, Hazel knew, it would have been his, and he would have been meant to pass it on to his sons should he ever have any.

But living there wasn't working anymore, so they were going to Vale. Giving up their familial tie to the land itself in search of _something_ else. Some vague future that Hazel had failed to piece together in his head time and time again.

"Me too." He finally said quietly.

He jerked slightly when Gretchen's hands found his shoulders, hugging him close. "But at least we've still got each other." She squeezed him, so tight that Hazel couldn't help the slight smile that spread across his face. "We can survive Vale. And who knows, maybe we'll be coming back here before we know it."

"I'd like that."

Gretchen let him go. "Good!" She exclaimed. "So we're out of here—"

"By morning."

"Right." She began to fold again. "And then we're taking the train to get into the city, right?" Gretchen turned her back away from Hazel, but it did nothing to make her sound any quieter. "Because I don't think we've done the train before."

"We do." Hazel replied, going back to folding. "But we need to be there early if we're going to be able to get on in time."

"And then we've got a place lined up in Vale—"

"We do."

Gretchen paused, quieting down. "And we're paying for it by—"

"We're using what's left of dad's money." Hazel said. "And…." Guilt settled down in the pit of his stomach at the realization of how bad of a mistake he'd made. "And from selling."

Gretchen locked up. "We're selling?"

"We can't afford any of this otherwise."

"But—" She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "What about coming back?"

Hazel let out a heavy sigh. "It might not be possible. I don't know." He found himself hanging his head, paused over the packing that he was doing. "It depends on how things go for us in Vale."

Gretchen let out an annoyed huff. "You aren't happy about this, right?"

"I'm not."

"Good." She sounded as bitter as he felt.

Hazel did his best to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. He felt horrible, and there was no turning around and getting away from it. He should have told Gretchen sooner, but what was there that he could honestly hope to say? It would never go well.

And then she'd leave, and he'd be alone.

He couldn't lose her. Not like their parents.

The two of them went to packing in silence, Hazel left to stew in his own guilt over what was happening to their parent's hut. But he'd been born first, so it was his to handle. Even if he should have talked to Gretchen about it first, something had _needed_ to be done.

Otherwise, they wouldn't have had anything.

Vale was, in a way, their only hope.


	2. Before

"Hazel, _come on!_" Gretchen all but _screeched _at him as the two of them ran through the woods. She had their father's bow strapped across her back. The two of them were on a hunt of sorts, trying to find a beehive that the two of them had stumbled upon while playing in the forest a day or two before. Since then, Gretchen (and it had been almost _all_ Gretchen) had decided that there were going to come back to collect their quarry.

The hope was that Gretchen could shoot the hive down, and then they could harvest it for honey and bring it home to their father.

How they planned to get around the issue of the bees though, Hazel wasn't quite sure of yet. They hadn't planned that far ahead, and Hazel was smart enough to know that a bow and four arrows wouldn't be enough to fight off bees even in a highly skilled set of hands.

"I'm coming!" He called back to his sister, doing his best to keep his footing on the mossy ground as he followed after his sister who had chosen to _sprint_ through the forest. He was bigger than her, he needed to be more careful about where he went and how he did it.

But that wasn't going to deter Gretchen.

It was his favorite thing about her— there was nothing in all of Remnant that could stop her from doing anything once she set her mind to it.

"Well, we can't be out for very long!" Gretchen called back to him. "We have to get back before dad notices that—" She turned halfway so that she could look at him as she spoke but slipped, sliding down to the ground with a thud.

Hazel's heart beat a little too fast in his chest and so he put caution to the wind and rushed to Gretchen's side to help her up. She grabbed onto his forearm when he offered it, and Hazel pulled her to her feet with one hand.

"Thanks, Hazel." She grinned at him, only for a split second before blinking and realizing that she needed to check that their father's bow was still unharmed. "Looks like we're still good."

"Risky." He reprimanded her quietly, even though he knew that his complaint was sure to fall on deaf ears.

"It'll be fine." Gretchen said. "It was right up ahead of here, right?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. He'd always been better at remembering the lay of the land than Gretchen had. She'd always been the more adventurous one of the two of them by a large margin. In the oddest way, they managed to balance each other out.

Gretchen grinned. "Dad's going to be so glad we brought back honey though." She said, head held confidently high as she walked. "I mean, when's the last time we had it fresh? And you know that the stuff that's at the market in town isn't as good."

Hazel couldn't remember the last time they'd had fresh honey. In a way, it didn't matter.

All he could think of was how bad it would be if their father ended up _needing_ his bow in the time that they were out.

Well, that and how they still hadn't quite figured out how they were going to handle the bees when they disturbed the hive. It wasn't like either of them were Huntsmen, or like they could fight for themselves.

They were just a pair of stupid kids.

Gretchen though, she tilted her head in a way that she always did when she rolled her eyes, an exaggerated sort of motion meant only for Hazel to interpret. "You worry too much."

"No I don't!" Hazel retorted, deciding to speed up so that he could fall into step with his sister. "This is just a bad idea."

"Dad will love it." Gretchen said. "You know how much he likes—" She stopped dead in her tracks and pointed up toward the treetops. "That's the one, right?"

Sure enough, the hive was there, hanging in the treetops and waiting for them.

"That's the one." Hazel confirmed. They'd both seen the hive twice before, but it had always been up to him to remember exactly where it was. He let out a breath and looked to his sister to see that she was already removing their father's bow from her back so that she could fire on the hive. All that she had to do was knock it down, and then—

Well, Hazel didn't know what would happen after that.

Presumably, it would involve a lot of bees.

"Okay, so—" Gretchen said. "I'm going to shoot it down and then after that—" Her tongue stuck out slightly in concentration as she nocked one of the four arrows that the two of them had brought with them. "We're probably going to need to run."

And yeah, Hazel _really_ didn't like that plan.

Wasn't exactly a mystery why either.

"Count of three!" She exclaimed. Hazel sighed and turned his back to his sister and prepared to sprint through the moss covered forest. If he was lucky, he wouldn't slip and fall and get stung terribly for it.

Gretchen counted down and let the arrow go. It flew just to the left of the hive. She huffed out a little annoyed sound and repeated the process two more times, getting closer to the hive each time but still missing both of the times that she tried to hit it.

It brought her down to their final arrow.

She stared down at the bow, clearly frustrated that she'd missed the hive. Hazel almost considered taking the bow and trying with the last arrow himself, but that was a bad idea. He _knew_ that for a fact he wasn't worth a damn with a bow. At least when Gretchen was taught with it she could _hit_ the practice target once in a while.

It wasn't something that Hazel could boast. He'd always ended up overshooting or undershooting for fear of snapping the bowstring.

He was certain that would only be the case there.

Of course, if he took it and missed with the last arrow, that could be a good thing, couldn't it? Then the two of them wouldn't _have_ to worry about the bees. They could just go back to the cabin and relax and while maybe they wouldn't have comb-fresh honey, they'd be _safe._

"Let me—" Hazel turned toward his sister, just as she'd let the last arrow fly. Hazel watched as it flew through the air in a perfect arc and hit the hive, knocking it down to the ground with a crash.

Both of them seemed to freeze in place as they realized that they had made a _horrible_ mistake.

"Gretch—" Hazel began to say just as she saw the dark cloud of bees begin to swarm out of the hive.

"Run!" She shouted and turned and ran, her hair flying out behind her as she took the lead. Hazel swallowed hard and followed after, unsure that he'd be able to keep up. Gretchen kept a quick pace, with Hazel struggling to keep up.

There was a pond, Hazel realized. Their father had taken him there to fish once before, and he was pretty sure that he could find his way there. He just had to be able to get Gretchen to _listen_ to him.

The trail was up ahead. He just had to get there.

"Gretchen!" Hazel shouted to his sister as he pushed himself ahead of her. "This way!"

She nodded and pushed off of a tree that was on the path, practically leaping onto and off of it with one graceful movement, almost like a rabbit. She ran along side him. "Where are we going?" She shouted back at him.

"There's a pond!" Hazel shouted back at her, checking back over his shoulder. "Maybe if we go in—"

"They'll lose us!" Gretchen laughed as she began to run faster and faster. "Good idea!"

The clearing began to form up ahead of them, and Gretchen all but _threw_ herself into the water, curling herself into a ball and splashing into the lake.

Hazel grit his teeth and threw himself in after her.

The water hit him like a sucker punch, colder than he'd originally been prepared for. Underwater plants tried to wind themselves around him, tried to drag him down. Hazel forced himself upwards to find that he was alone.

"Gretchen?" He asked in a panic, all but turning his entire body as he tried to get a glimpse of his sister. What if the weeds—

"Hazel!" She shouted back to him from the bank behind him. "Get out!" She shouted at him, and it took Hazel a moment too long to realize that there was _panic_ written clearly across her face.

Something was _wrong_, and it wasn't just the bees.

It was then that Hazel saw the water ripple.

He tried his hardest to swim to shore with his sister, the bees be damned and barely got there when a large, black and bone white form appeared out of the water itself.

Grimm.

He'd never seen one in person. He didn't think that Gretchen ever had either. Their father had always warned the two of them never to go out into the forest alone for a _reason_, and he was about to be the only one left in their family.

They couldn't fight a grimm alone.

"Gretchen!" Hazel all but screamed to his sister. "Run!"

What other option did he have? If he could get her away while the grimm was focused on him, then their father could save them both. She ran faster than him, she was more surefooted, she could—

"No!" She shouted back, and it was then that Hazel realized that she was running _toward _him, pushing herself the same way that he had moments before.

The grimm fully emerged from the water, a gigantic turtle with jaws so large that they could have snapped trees in half with no trouble. And if it was large enough that it could snap trees, then it could kill Hazel and Gretchen with no problem.

Hazel glanced around his surroundings and tried to think, he had to do something, _anything_ because if he didn't then he and Gretchen were both dead.

He tried to scramble to his feet, sliding in the mud and finding it difficult to get out of it so that he could at least reach the banks and make his own getaway that way. But still he wanted for Gretchen to run, that way it wasn't as much of a _loss._

"You have to—" Hazel began to protest as the grimm got closer to him, it's maw opening and beginning to charge _something_ which he was clearly about to be on the receiving end of.

"I'm not going to let you get hurt!" Gretchen screamed, and all at once the forest around them seemed to _quiver_.

The wind whipped hard around him, and then Hazel was able to get to his feet, to run towards the path where he could at least make an escape. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what.

Where was Gretchen?

The wind tore the leaves from the trees around them, spinning into a cyclone that surrounded Hazel.

It was only when he looked _up_ that he found her, strange soft-green flames burning from her eyes. She floated above him, almost supported by the wind with her dark hair flying out behind her.

She looked down at him, and Hazel saw soft _relief_ wash over her features.

His sister looked back at the grimm and the frown appeared on her face, one of the few times that Hazel had ever seen it. But then she seemed to shrug and aimed her arm towards the grimm, like that would do something.

The leaves around her turned to shards of ice and shot towards the grimm, eviscerating it as thunder cracked around Gretchen.

The grimm began to smoke and disappear, leaving the pond looking like a sickly sludge.

As the winds began to still, Hazel had no idea what he had just seen. Had Gretchen just activated her semblance, or was it something else?

He looked up and realized then that his sister was falling.

Hazel thought fast and braced himself to catch her.

The least that he could do was get the two of them home, honey be damned.

Hazel caught Gretchen and carefully lowered her to the ground. Their father's bow had been cast aside on the banks of the pond. He kept looking back over his shoulder at her nervously as he walked across the area to retrieve it. When he returned to Gretchen she was still unconscious _(exhausted,_ he realized belatedly.)

In one careful motion Hazel lifted Gretchen up and draped her over his back in an awkward piggyback of sorts. He looped his arms around her legs, carefully lifted their father's bow, and began the trek back to their cabin.

When the time came to ask what had happened, Hazel didn't even know where to start.

He accepted the brunt of their father's scolding, and then sat by Gretchen's bed as he waited for his sister to stir.

It took too long.


	3. The Start

The Rainart twins been living in Vale for all of four months when Gretchen came home with an odd packet of paperwork. Two copies of the packet, actually. The envelope that the packet came in was mostly blank, save for a single shining embossed emblem that was on the front.

Hazel had decided to stay home and try to clean while his sister enjoyed a day on the town. What she'd been intending to get up to, he hadn't known. But they were in the city, and the city was safe enough so he hadn't been _completely _worried about her going out alone.

Besides, if she was out doing whatever she did, then it gave him the freedom to try and clean up around the apartment without her getting in the way. It also gave him a chance to make a proper dinner for the two of them to share that night.

But as usual, when Gretchen wanted her presence known she _made_ it known.

She bounced up to him in the kitchen where he was chopping some of the vegetables he'd managed to get at the market in exchange for helping to unload crates of produce off of a truck. It wasn't much, but he could appreciate it in lieu of money which would have only gone into buying food anyways.

At that point, it was just cutting the middleman out of the process.

"Hey." She greeted him, all but forcing herself into his space just over top of the partially chopped bell peppers, despite the fact that he had a knife in his hand.

Hazel smiled weakly at her. "Hi." He said before setting the knife down and gently pushing his sister away from him so that he could have some space again.

Gretchen took the stool on the other side of the counter, fidgeting with the edges of the packets.

"So I was out and…" She squirmed excitedly. "You know we're old enough that we could apply to the Huntsmen's academies if we wanted to?"

Hazel furrowed his brow. "Neither of us have been to a training school." It seemed like an obvious enough thing to point out. Neither of them were exactly the types that would be able to just get in on account of old test scores. They'd been _homeschooled,_ and combat hadn't exactly been a part of it.

Well, not officially, at least.

"I mean, yeah." Gretchen grumbled. "But I mean, I could probably get in, right?"

Hazel hesitated. "Do you want to?" In his heart, he already knew the answer.

Gretchen shrugged. "I dunno. I've killed grimm before and I'm _good_ at it. I think it said there was an alternate entrance exam for people that haven't gone to any of the training schools?" She flipped one of the packets over in her hands. "I think I could pass." She looked up at him. "Maybe if we trained you up you could too?"

Hazel wasn't a fighter. He never had been, the most he could do was take advantage of his size and throw a few punches. To think that he might be capable of keeping up with people that were _trained_ was laughable.

Gretchen could do it because she was raw talent, or maybe something else on top of that.

"I don't know." Hazel answered his sister as truthfully as it could. "I… don't think it's a good idea."

His sister rolled her eyes, not making any _real_ effort to hide how annoyed she was with his apprehension over the topic. He _knew_ that he'd always been the more nervous of the two of them, the more reserved, the more quiet. Gretchen had always been more than willing and able to make up for it.

Deep down Hazel _knew_ that his sister understood. He didn't like danger. He didn't like surprises. He liked knowing what to expect, and being able to plan for it. He liked _safety _and having a proper sense of security in his life.

Not a constant, unknown element of danger.

Everything that he knew about Huntsmen, about grimm, about everything surrounding that life was that it _wasn't_ safe. Just because Gretchen could kill a grimm when they were kids didn't mean that she could do the same and not lose her life for it.

She was strong, but was strength enough? Could it ever be enough?

"Okay, look—" Gretchen grumbled. "Just… promise me that you'll think about it? Because I think that I want to try and do it no matter what." She let out a little breath. "And I know that…" Her voice trailed off. "I know that you're probably worried about what it'll cost. I get it."

The cost wasn't something that Hazel hadn't even considered. He hadn't gotten a chance for it.

Going to Beacon couldn't be cheap, could it? Even one of them going to Beacon would probably be more than they could actually support. Most of the money that had come from selling their father's cabin had gone right back into making sure that they had food and a place to live. He was able to make money by working under the table but that was barely enough.

How could either of them hope to see even one tuition paid for, let alone two?

"Look—" He said, glancing over at the two brightly colored packets. There were images of huntsmen and huntresses in training printed on the cover, all of them bright and smiling as they sparred with each other. The image was probably taken while the students were preparing for the Vytal Festival tournament. "I'll think about it."

"That's really the best that I'm getting out of you, isn't it?" Gretchen asked, sitting up straight. "That you'll _think about it._"

"Yes." Hazel grumbled. "For now."

She sighed. "Okay, Hazel." She answered, stretching. "I'm going to go up to the campus and see what else I can find out. Maybe there are scholarships available… I mean, if I can even pass the test."

She would. Hazel had no doubts about that much.

That was the part that _scared _him.

They'd never been apart. Not really.

If she went to Beacon, he'd end up alone. The most he could hope for was the occasional visit.

When he looked up again, his sister was already out the door and he was left alone to finish making a dinner that he strongly suspected he would have no choice but to eat alone.


	4. Making Sense Of It

Hazel and Gretchen sat at the table while their father turned over a slab of venison on an old cast-iron griddle. Gretchen leaned forward with her arms crossed over the table, while Hazel leaned back with his own crossed over his chest.

They were both in trouble, and they _both_ knew it.

"Now—" Their father spoke, with a deep grumbling voice. Hazel wondered if his voice would sound the same when he got older too. "Why don't you two explain to me _again_ what you were doing out there."

"We saw a beehive." Gretchen said, gesturing slightly with her hands. "So we figured that we could get It and bring back the honeycomb. It went bad and we ended up running into a grimm. That's all."

"Hazel?" Their father looked at him, as he always did when he was looking for a confirmation that he was being told the truth. Hazel only nodded and looked down at the table, embarrassed.

Hearing it out loud, it was amazing how stupid of a decision he and Gretchen had made in trying to get the hive.

The man let out a breath. "And the two of you are meaning to tell me that you fought off a grimm on your own." He turned toward them, the venison briefly forgotten. "With only my bow to defend yourselves with."

"We were out of arrows, actually." Gretchen said. "We ran out when we shot down the beehive—"

"_How many did you take?"_ Their father growled.

"It was only four!" Gretchen cried. "The point is. We shot down the beehive, then we had to run from the bees, and we ran into the grimm at the pond."

"Hazel?"

"it's true." Hazel confirmed. "It was… a turtle. Bigger than the two of us put together."

"And how did you escape it?" Their father asked, still seeing holes in the story. Holes that Hazel wasn't entirely sure he would be capable of explaining. He and Gretchen had managed to talk about what had happened a little bit, but it seemed like she didn't quite have a good recollection of everything that had happened.

He looked at Hazel directly.

"Gretchen did." Hazel answered, his grip tightening on his own arms. How was he even supposed to explain it? How could he. "I… don't know how to explain it."

"Right." Gretchen followed up, her eyes widening a little bit. "It was… weird."

"It could have been your semblance activating." Their father suggested. "It's not uncommon for it to be brought on by intense stress." He let out a sigh, turning so that he could flip over the venison on the griddle once more. "What was it like?"

"A tornado." Hazel said. "And it was… cold."

The room went dead silent. Their father shot him a look.

"Hazel." He said, his voice serious. "I'd like to speak to your sister alone."

"But—"

"_Alone,_ Hazel."

And with no other option, Hazel got up and left the cabin. He went outside. He sat out there in the night until their father came out with a plate of dinner for him.

He still wasn't allowed in for two more hours.

Whatever they were talking about, it was serious.

Hazel just wished that he was allowed to know what was going on, just the same as everyone else in his family did.

What was so wrong with him that he couldn't hear what his sister did?

Had he made some sort of mistake?

He didn't know.


	5. Beacon Academy

Just as Hazel could have easily predicted, Gretchen didn't let the Beacon matter die and showed absolutely no intention of doing so.

In fact, Hazel only saw his sister doubling down on the topic countless times before she got to the point where she was physically _dragging _him to board a bullhead so that they could fly up to Beacon and view the campus together. She babbled along next to him, nervous because they were supposed to be meeting with Beacon's headmaster.

She was just talking to calm herself down. Hazel _knew_ that much.

He was nervous too, but didn't know how to talk about it.

Hazel didn't know that he wanted for _either _of them to meet Headmaster Ozpin. He had a feeling that the meeting would only make Gretchen get _more_ excited about the possibility of attending Beacon. He didn't want that, not really. He wanted to know that his sister would be safe with him, and the more that she talked about the matter Hazel started to get the feeling that she _wanted_ to be away from him.

To his knowledge, Hazel wasn't smothering her. They'd moved to a new city, and he was doing everything in his power to make sure that they could _actually_ live their lives there. He didn't want to move to Vale any more than Gretchen had, but they were out of options. He had responsibilities to her, and part of that meant being sure that they could live comfortably and safely.

Gretchen was strong, but he still worried about her. He was always worried.

The two of them boarded the bullhead and landed at Beacon Academy nearly half an hour later.

When they arrived at the dock, Headmaster Ozpin was already there, waiting for them.

He smiled at both of them. "Are you two the Rainart twins?" The headmaster looked from Hazel to Gretchen.

Gretchen jumped straight ahead and spoke up. "We are." She confirmed, smiling wide. "I'm Gretchen, and this is my brother Hazel."

Hazel nodded, not sure what else there was for him to say.

"And you two are interested in attending my academy?" Ozpin asked. "Because if that's the case, we have a great deal to discuss."

"I'm interested!" Gretchen said, falling into place at Ozpin's side, all but bursting with excitement. "I mean, being a Huntress seems so _amazing._ Getting to see the world and save people, what's not to like about it?"

Ozpin smiled. "It surely does make for an interesting life." He looked past Gretchen and at Hazel instead. "And what about you?"

"I'm not sure." Hazel lied. He wasn't interested at all. It was probably for the better not to lead with that, though.

Ozpin nodded along. "It's surely not a life meant for all of us. I can't exactly go ahead and blame anyone for not having an interest." His eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses, and for a moment Hazel couldn't help but feel like he was being examined. "Not even when they might have a certain talent to them."

Hazel _had_ no talent. And he and Gretchen both knew it. Gretchen had soaked up all of the talent in the womb, as far as Hazel was concerned. He was good with directions, competent at cooking, and only really _excelled_ at lifting heavy objects, but that was about it.

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Hazel's just worried about getting split up." She spoke up, taking the lead on the conversation again.

"Of course." Ozpin answered. "I suppose we should start with a tour of the facilities. Perhaps getting a look at what your life would be like might be able to convince you." They began on the way towards the main building. "We try our best to provide the best for our students, from housing to meals. Equipment upkeep is also provided to a certain degree, as students are expected to be able to maintain their own weapons."

Ozpin looked to Gretchen. "And you two have weapons, don't you?"

"Not really." Gretchen answered. "I mean, I have an old bow but I'm pretty sure that I make up for just about everything with my semblance."

Hazel shook his head.

Ozpin frowned. "I suppose that we'll have to see what exactly you two are capable of in due time."

"I promise we won't disappoint." Gretchen said cheerily as the two of them were steered into a dorm room which was unoccupied for the moment.

It wasn't much, but Hazel didn't know what he'd been expecting. Four beds in a room, a couple of desks against the walls, and a few bookshelves that no doubt held Beacon's core curriculum on them. In a way, it was a nicer arrangement than he and Gretchen had in their pitiful apartment in the city.

At least that pitiful apartment was _theirs,_ though.

Ozpin let the two of them step inside. Gretchen went straight in, curious about what there would be. Hazel only hanged just past the door with his arms crossed. The headmaster spoke up as Gretchen turned to look at the four beds. "This is the standard housing for our students." Ozpin explained. "Students in their final year are upgraded to more complete suites that give them small kitchens and a little more privacy."

"It seems nice." Gretchen said. "Hazel, could you imagine?"

_No._

"It's bigger than our apartment." Hazel mumbled. He had to at least say _something._

"Not as big as the cabin, though." Gretchen retorted. "But I like it."

"That's good." Ozpin smiled. "Whenever you are ready, we can move on. I believe there may be a combat class in session for you two to spectate if you'd like."

Gretchen grinned, the idea of getting to see real combat putting a new excitement in her that hadn't been there before. "That sounds great." She said, and then she was hurrying out the door with Hazel trailing just behind her. The two of them followed Ozpin through the halls until they were entering an active combat class.

Two students clashed against each other, all but darting around each other as they tried to best the other.

"Sparring is common for these classes." Ozpin explained. "As capturing grimm for practice can be difficult. In addition, it's better for students to practice against each other."

Gretchen raised an eyebrow. "Because of the Vytal Festival Tournament?"

"Because other Huntsmen and Huntresses provide a greater threat than grimm ever will." Ozpin explained. "For grimm training, students are usually sent on missions with their teams of four to clear infestations as they arise."

Gretchen nodded along. Hazel felt his stomach flip.

For the first time, he had a question and actually bothered to try to voice it.

"What happens if the mission is too much?" He asked, looking at Ozpin directly. "And they can't handle it?"

Ozpin sighed. "A good question. Lower year students are accompanied by fully licensed Huntsmen, and when they reach their later years here their teams are sent into the field alone." The Headmaster put on a smile. "It is exceedingly rare that we see student deaths. You shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"But what if the Huntsman can't handle it?" Hazel prodded on.

Ozpin blinked and looked him in the eye, like he'd realized that Hazel had reached his most wary of the academy. "Then there is often little that can be done past calling for external support."

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Hazel's always been a worrywart." She cut Hazel and Ozpin both off. "I'm sure that it doesn't get that bad. I mean, huntsmen can handle a lot, right?"

A sly smile stretched back across Ozpin's face. "That is correct." They said. "As I said, those cases of student death are exceedingly rare. Calls for support from Beacon are treated with a high priority. Any losses that can be prevented, student, huntsman, or otherwise, are losses that we prefer to avoid."

Gretchen looked back at Hazel. "See?" She asked. "It's fine. They have a system in place."

_But what happens if you're stuck alone in the middle of nowhere,_ Hazel thought but didn't voice. He balled his hands into fists at his side.

Ozpin sighed. "Perhaps we should move on?" He asked. "Or discuss the rest of Beacon's curriculum."

"Sure." Gretchen said, charging in without thinking first as always. Hazel frowned when Ozpin's back was turned to him, and then followed after his sister.

He was losing her.

He could feel it.

He was about to be all alone.

Ozpin spoke up as they walked. "Beacon also offers a standard educational experience, though some classes like history are more tuned for the occupation that you'll be going into. There's no need to teach the history of Vale's governments when a history of major grimm attacks is more relevant to you. Not to say that you won't learn about those governments too, of course." He held his head up high as he walked. "Grimm studies, combat, Dust use, and regular field missions are the only major changes from your standard school's curriculum."

He looked back at Gretchen and Hazel both. "I am to understand that neither of you have attended one of the training schools, am I correct?"

"That's right." Gretchen said. "We grew up… really rural. So we were always dealing with what lived out in the woods."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow, almost curious. "Is that so?" He asked, like he had just seen something that would make Hazel and Gretchen both more valuable to the academy. Hazel didn't want it. Gretchen would. "And what have you seen out in the woods?"

Gretchen thought. "Well, we've had a lot of Beowulves." She started, holding a finger out as she went through the things that she'd had to fight and kill in the past. "Howlers, a couple of Deathstalkers…" She perked up. "Oh, my first kill was a turtle of some sort, does that count?"

"You killed an Ironjaw?" Ozpin questioned. "And how old were you when you managed that?"

Hazel looked to Gretchen, because he knew the answer to Ozpin's question as just well as she did. She looked back at him, because they _both_ knew perfectly well that what had happened in the woods that day _hadn't_ been normal.

Her expression smoothed out though, her eyes narrowing at Hazel for just a split second before she looked back to Ozpin. "Twelve." She answered.

Ozpin looked to Hazel. "And your first kill?"

"Beowulf." Hazel said, remembering the beast perfectly. "Last year."

"Hazel, you aren't supposed to—"

Ozpin gave Hazel a deadly serious look. "Are you invested in coming to my academy?" He asked Hazel, the first questions that was directed _solely_ at Hazel and not at Gretchen. "Because I'm sure that you understand that for most of my students, they've been fighting Grimm for years before entering here."

"No." Hazel answered truthfully, and felt the _anger_ that began to radiate off of his sister. "I'm not."

"So why are you here?" Ozpin asked, looking from Hazel to Gretchen. "I'd been under the impression that both of you were interested."

"I _am_ interested." Gretchen spoke up, stepping forward and all but forcing herself into Ozpin's space. "Let me prove that to you. Take me into the Emerald Forest and I can prove it right now."

Ozpin turned slowly to face Gretchen, his expression calm and cool in a way that Hazel couldn't help but to find more than a little _wrong_. There was something about it that was just off enough, something that was just _uncanny_ enough that Hazel couldn't help but notice that it seemed like there was something missing. A coldness behind Ozpin's eyes that a warm smile couldn't mask.

He stepped towards Hazel. "And why are you here?" He asked, looking up at Hazel so that their eyes met. "If you aren't interested in attending yourself."

"For her." Hazel grumbled. "To make sure that she'll be safe."

"Hazel—" Gretchen spoke up. "You know that I'd just be above the city! It's not like we'll never see each other again."

He didn't know that. He couldn't know that. He'd been there when their father had drawn his last breath. How was he meant to just be okay with Gretchen going out into forests to fight Grimm when he could never know that she'd ever come home again? What happened when one of those great evils swallowed her up?

"We don't know that." Hazel grumbled, turning to look back at his sister. "_I don't want to lose you too._"

Gretchen sighed. "And…" She said, like she expected there to be more to it. There wasn't. Money was money. "What else?"

Ozpin watched them both, taking the conversation in and probably calculating the next move based on it.

Hazel's voice came out in a growl. "I just don't understand why you want this so badly."

"I want it because _I like helping people!"_ She snapped at him. "Because saving people feels _good!_ Not that you would know what it feels like."

Hazel jerked back, feeling not entirely unlike he'd just been slapped in the face. Of all the things that Gretchen could have chosen to hold over his head, it had to be the fact that if it wasn't for her, he would have been devoured by an Ironjaw years before.

Ozpin stood there still, just off to the side, not wanting to go ahead and intervene. But he watched, taking the argument in for what it was.

Hazel grit his teeth. He wasn't going to win the argument, but he wasn't going to let his sister get killed. He couldn't.

"We can't afford this anyways." Hazel growled back at Gretchen. "We're barely getting by as it is."

"Or!" Gretchen called back. "I could look into scholarships. Maybe I'll turn out to be so good that we don't _have _to pay!"

It was then that Ozpin spoke up. "If I may—" He said, stepping into the space that was left between the twins. "Perhaps it may be beneficial if Gretchen were to show me what she is capable of. There are of course scholarship programs, but if finances are preventing you from making a serious attempt at enrollment you won't even be considered for those scholarships in the first place."

Gretchen lit up. "See?" She asked Hazel. "Just let me _try._ You don't have to come with me, but you have to at least be willing to give me a chance."

Hazel glanced between Ozpin and Gretchen, all too aware of the corner that he'd just been backed into.

There wasn't any winning.

He sighed heavily, feeling like the discomfort that settled over him was going to drag him into the depths of the earth.


	6. Someday

The cart was already prepared for them, hitched onto the back of their father's bike so that they could go into town. It was something that they had to do probably every two weeks, those trips into the tiny village that was through the woods. Hazel and Gretchen sat in the back. They always had, because their father couldn't exactly steer with them on the bike.

When they'd been small, it had been a serious problem.

Now that they were getting older, it was different.

Leaving them at the cabin alone had been deemed a less than ideal solution, and so they went with their father.

"Alright—" Their father said, holding his bow and quiver as he looked between the twins. "Which one of you wants it?"

Gretchen shot forward. "I do!" She said. "Hazel can't shoot anyways."

Their father directed a look at Hazel. "Are you alright with that?"

He nodded, seating himself on one side of the cart while his sister settled in on the other, resting the bow across her lap in case they ended up needing it later. Hazel hoped that they wouldn't, and if they did he hoped that it was only because they'd happened upon something that could be killed for food.

After the incident at the pond, Hazel never wanted to see another grimm.

He still couldn't get what had happened with Gretchen out of his head. Something had happened there, something great and terrible that he couldn't ignore. More than a semblance, almost like _magic._

Their father sighed and climbed onto the bike. "You two better be sitting back there."

"We are." Hazel responded.

With that, the bike's engine rumbled to life and they started on the drive to town so that they could get whatever provisions that they'd need for the few weeks ahead of them. When they were running low, they'd make the same trip again.

It was a comfortable part of their family's routine, one that Hazel had grown used to long before. Gretchen was just as used to it, he knew. He settled back into his seat and tried to let his mind wander. Every time that it began to, Hazel couldn't help looking back to his sister.

Three weeks had passed since the incident at the pond.

Something had happened there, and it was something that Hazel was still doing his absolute best to put together. Talking to Gretchen about it hadn't gotten him anywhere. All that had happened was that every time the topic was brought up, Gretchen would stop talking about it altogether, like it was something that was _forbidden_. Hazel had _ been there_ and she wouldn't even talk about it.

To pretend as though it didn't have him bothered at all wasn't right. Hazel was beyond bothered. He just wanted to know that his sister was doing alright, that they were okay. All that their father had given him had been a lecture about how it wasn't safe to go off into the forest alone, and that he needed to help keep his sister safe.

Nothing more.

It seemed that he had no intention of going further with the topic, regardless of whether Hazel deserved it or not.

Gretchen squirmed in her seat on her side of the cart, and even let her legs stretch out in front of her. Her feet bumped up against Hazel's, which only made him pull his own legs back to give her a little bit more room. He bowed his head and tried to get comfortable, at least enough to make sure that the wind wouldn't be blowing directly onto his face the entire time.

"Hey." Gretchen called to him. "What are the odds we get to check out the market?"

"Likely." Hazel replied to his sister. They usually were given a small amount of freedom when they were in the village, if only because it got the two of them out of their father's hair long enough that he could do everything that needed to be done. "Why?"

Gretchen looked down at the bow in her lap. "You think they'd sell me a weapon?"

The question came out of nowhere, practically a slap to the face that Hazel was immediately taken aback by. They were _kids. _Being able to occasionally handle their father's bow when needed didn't mean that either of them would be able to handle a real weapon. There were probably even rules about who weapons were able to be sold to.

"Probably not." Hazel admitted. He knew that there was an age limit for anyone that wanted to buy Dust— he'd learned that lesson when he'd been asked to pick up a few packets of Fire Dust for their father years before. Without at least an academy license that marked him as a Huntsman in training, he was entirely barred from purchasing raw Dust until he was at least eighteen.

Gretchen put on a pout. "I'm just saying, maybe we could use one next time—"

"There shouldn't _be_ a next time!" Hazel replied, feeling an odd panic already beginning to settle in his chest. "We almost died!"

"But we didn't!" Gretchen protested back. "I dunno, I just think that maybe if I got my own weapon and started using it, we'd have a lot less to worry about."

Hazel swallowed hard. "This isn't a good idea, Gretchen."

"How about this—" She leaned in towards him, putting on a mischievous grin. "We got into the market and I try to get a weapon, and we see what happens."

Hazel rolled his eyes. "Neither of us have the Lien." He said. "And we're too young."

"We'll see." Gretchen sat back up, and for the rest of the ride the two of them sat in relative silence. She fiddled with the bowstring as she waited, and Hazel found that there was little he could do other than try to occupy his own thoughts.

Within half an hour the three of them were pulling into town. Their father parked the bike and cart just outside of the market. Before either of the twins even tried to get out, he walked around to the back of the cart and looked between the two of them.

"The two of you are to stay in the market." He all but ordered of the two of them. "You can go into the shops, but better be willing to go as soon as I say."

"Got it." The twins said in unison.

"Gretchen, my bow."

She rolled her eyes and got up, soon enough she approached their father to hand off the bow and quiver. He took it and gave her a somewhat suspicious look. Gretchen just shot back the same smile that she always did when she wanted to make it seem like she wasn't up to anything.

"Alright." Their father said. "Go on."

With that, Gretchen took off before Hazel did, straight in the direction of the weapons stand like she'd mentioned. Hazel barely got off of the cart when he got his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Keep an eye on her." Their father muttered, just loudly enough that only Hazel could hear before Hazel was freed to follow after Gretchen.

Hazel fully intended to keep an eye on Gretchen anyways. He hadn't _needed_ to be told, but in some way it made him feel a little better to know that their father was feeling concerned about Gretchen in the same way that Hazel was. He'd probably even overheard the conversation between Hazel and Gretchen on the way there.

If their father was worried, why not say why?

When Hazel found her, Gretchen was at a weapon's stand looking through a book of the work that the blacksmith had done. She flipped from page to page, a certain sort of wonder on her expression.

"Gretchen?"

"Hey." She looked up at him and shot Hazel a quick smile before she looked back to the book. "Have you _seen_ the sorts of weapons that Huntsmen get commissioned?"

"I… haven't." Hazel admitted as he drew in close. Gretchen had the page open to what looked like a combination between a hunting rifle and some sort of hand scythe. It didn't seem particularly practical. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe someday—"

"Those are custom pieces." The blacksmith spoke up. "Are you looking to go to one of the Academies?"

Gretchen's head shot up. "Oh, uh—" She hesitated. "I'd like to."

"You're certainly old enough to apply to one of the combat schools." The blacksmith said, and just like that and odd silence settled over the entire room. Hazel and Gretchen both _ knew_ about the combat schools of course, but it was something else entirely to actually think about trying to attend one of them.

Gretchen leaned in over the book, almost to the point where she was up on the counter with it. "How do I do that?"

"Well," the Blacksmith started, considering. "For one you'd need to be able to prove that you can fight."

"What else?" Gretchen prodded the shopkeeper on. "Do I need a weapon?"

The man sighed. "Well, you'd probably need to be able to afford the trip out to Patch to start, then the tuition."

Gretchen looked at Hazel, and Hazel already _knew_ what she was thinking. Even if their father could afford the tuition for one of them, sending both of them off would be too much. Much more than was reasonable, at least.

She ran her fingers over the image of the weapon that was on the page. "Maybe someday." Gretchen said wistfully, considering it. "What do you think, Hazel?"

"Maybe someday." Hazel echoed his sister, not sure what else there was that he could say to her.

A part of him hoped that vague _someday_ never actually came.


	7. Acceptance

"I'd appreciate it if the two of you would show me what exactly you are capable of." Ozpin said as the three of them walked out into the Emerald Forest together. "If you wish to attend my academy without having any clearance from one of the training schools, you will have to prove yourselves."

Hazel balled his hands into fists and followed Gretchen as the two of them walked further and further into the forest with Ozpin at their backs.

He felt so foolish. The two of them were walking into a grimm infested forest, both of them completely unarmed.

The rumors that he'd heard that being allowed to _walk_ into that forest was being more than generous.

Hazel didn't particularly look forward to having to go back to work with only one arm to use to lift crates with after one of his got gnawed off by grimm. At least if he got eaten whole he wouldn't have to worry about going to work or getting fired.

But Hazel couldn't leave Gretchen alone. She could probably get into Beacon, but still the idea of leaving her alone in the world was too much. They were already without any family other than each other. The last thing that he needed to do was make it any worse.

"So we start by finding some grimm." Gretchen announced, taking the lead. Hazel nodded and followed her. Ozpin still said nothing to either of them, only watched as they disappeared into the forest together.

It made Hazel's skin crawl.

Gretchen grinned wide and then broke into a run, heading further into the forest. Hazel's eyes widened when he realized that there was no room for them to go wasting time. He looked back over his shoulder at Ozpin, gave the headmaster a look, and then sprinted in after Gretchen because the last thing that he ever wanted to have to do was lose her for real.

But already he'd managed to lose track of Gretchen, which made Hazel's heart beat far too hard in his chest as he got further and further into the forest. He had to find her, had to make sure that she was safe.

"Found some!" He heard her shout from further into the forest. He stopped dead in his tracks, just long enough to try and listen, and when he heard the sounds of Beowulves snarling Hazel took off in that direction so that the two of them could stick together.

And of course Gretchen hadn't just found _some_ beowulves.

She'd found a whole damn pack of them.

She'd found a pack of Beowulves, they were both unarmed, and only Gretchen had a semblance that could be used to defend the two of them.

She was strong, but that fear was there always under Hazel's skin that it wasn't ever going to be enough. He knew that it wasn't always enough already.

Hazel skidded into the clearing and shouted to try and get his sister's attention.

Gretchen turned her head to look at him, quickly. Her long braid flew out with the motion and she put on a grin. "You made it!" She cried, jumping away from one of the grimm as it got closer to her.

"What are you doing?"

"Fighting them!" Gretchen said as she leaped up into the air to catch onto a tree branch and pull herself up above the battle for herself. "What are you doing to be useful?"

Hazel opened his mouth to try and give an answer when one of the grimm threw itself straight into him. He grit his teeth and tried to push it away from him. He managed to get it off of him, but the felt the grimm's fangs try to cut through his aura.

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Just hold on!" She shouted back to him. "Think I can take all of them out in one go?"

She could. Hazel _knew_ fully well that Gretchen was more than capable of it should she have the desire to go that far. If she really wanted to, Hazel was pretty sure that his sister could have easily leveled the entire forest.

A part of him wondered whether or not Gretchen showing off would up his own chances of admission, against all logic.

A more reasonable thing to hope for was that she'd show off so much that Ozpin had no choice but to offer her a full scholarship to Beacon academy. Gretchen would be happy, and Hazel wouldn't have to worry about picking up more work for the sake of supporting the two of them. Not that there was actually all that much work that he _could_ have picked up anyways. He was only getting his paychecks under the table.

Gretchen would be at Beacon Academy, Hazel knew. She'd be somewhere dangerous, fighting monsters every day and constantly putting herself at an extreme, unnecessary risk that she didn't need to take. She'd love being a huntress in training, with her teammates and her dorm, and never worrying about where her next meal would come from.

As for him, Hazel knew, he'd have to learn to be alone for the first time in his life.

He wasn't ready. He was barely keeping things together as they were.

Gretchen gave him an expectant look, one that communicated that she was _far_ from entertained by how distant Hazel was that day.

"Hazel!" She shouted back at him as she prepared herself for the fight for real, all while Hazel decided to hang back and keep himself as safe as he could on his own. "What do you think?"

"Just do it!" He growled back at Gretchen.

She rolled her eyes and activated her semblance, or whatever it was that she did. The wind whipped around them both, so fast that Hazel had to crouch low to the ground to ensure that he wouldn't lose his footing because of it. Gretchen raised up into the treetops, the grimm skidding to a stop just within reach of them both.

When Hazel looked up, he watched as green leaves turned blue with ice before they shot down towards the grimm and tore through them in one quick go. All of them disappeared at once, and slowly Gretchen drifted back down, the flames from her eyes fading away just as her feet hit the forest floor.

"You okay?" She asked, turning her head to smile back at Hazel.

"Yeah." He rose up to his feet again and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. "I'm fine."

Gretchen nodded along. "You think Ozpin's going to take us?"

"He'll take you." Hazel grumbled. "Ozpin would be a fool not to."

Gretchen let out a sigh and jogged up to Hazel's side, clutching onto his sleeve as she walked alongside him. "Oh, come on, he won't split us up!" She said. "If you want to go, he'll take you."

Hazel let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not as sure." He replied just a moment later. "Should we keep on going, or—"

Gretchen thought on it for a moment. "If Ozpin makes a decision, maybe he'll speak up about it?"

Hazel frowned. He wasn't so sure. Couldn't be sure.

"Maybe." He said quietly, still leading them because Gretchen would only end up getting the two of them lost. A part of him was angry at himself for failing to mark his trail as they walked through the forest, but it was too late to do anything for it.

If they were lost at that point, they were _lost._

Gretchen paid the matter no mind and for hours the two of them trekked on, deeper and deeper into the forest. Every time they ran into grimm, Gretchen was quick to dispatch them. The only time that Hazel found himself facing one directly, he could only do what he could to keep the beast off of him.

Nothing more. He couldn't afford to do anything less.

They found Ozpin at a clearing in the middle of the forest, where some sort of old temple had been built, some monument to gods that had long passed.

Ozpin smiled at them both, and Hazel felt his heart drop into his stomach, possibly even further than that based on how awful he felt in that moment.

"Miss Rainart," Ozpin spoke quietly. "I would like to welcome you to my academy."

When Gretchen _leapt _with joy, Hazel felt only sick dread that sank into his very bones and dragged him down until he felt like he was absolutely nothing.


	8. The Winter

The winters had always been hard for their little family, as far back as Hazel could remember.

Somehow, this one felt harder than others had.

He and Gretchen were just barely beginning to scrape the age of 15, only a few months away from crossing over that gap. Gretchen had continued to develop into something powerful, always under their father's guidance.

Hazel was left feeling that there was some secret that he was being kept from, some forbidden knowledge that he was _never_ to hear.

There was a distance that had formed between him and the rest of his family. He wasn't going to pretend as though it wasn't there.

If he'd known what there was that he could do to ease the distance, he would have done it. He didn't _like_ being alone, not in the way that he felt like he'd been left. He liked quiet and having his space— he didn't like feeling like he was increasingly more and more on the outs.

Their father was out with Gretchen, the two of them going through the process of another training session while Hazel loaded their fireplace with dried wood that he'd helped their father cut earlier that evening. When they came in, they were going to want to start on dinner. Hazel was fairly certain that they still had some dried venison tucked away somewhere.

Everything else was running thin, though.

It wasn't only affecting their tiny family, it was hitting the village as well.

There just wasn't enough food to go around. The herds of deer in the area were all but gone, the ground was too cold and hard to be able to grow anything. What had been stored for the winter had dried up faster than it should have due to winter coming quicker than it usually would.

Hazel was quickly learning to minimize himself for the sake of his family. Most nights, he went to bed with hunger clawing at his stomach. He had reason to suspect that his and Gretchen's father was doing the same thing, but never said a word. The same way that Hazel never said a word.

Gretchen was aware of it, Hazel was sure of it. She'd been woken by the growling of his stomach more than once.

Hazel couldn't admit that he was hungry, not as long as it would leave Gretchen worrying.

But the fire was hot, and Hazel was good at maintaining it. He could cook when they had the food for it. He had his use, even if he wouldn't be much use should their little cabin come under attack by grimm.

If that happened though, Hazel reminded himself, Gretchen was more than capable of protecting all of them.

He didn't know how it was possible, but it was. She was stronger, stronger than Hazel had even _heard_ of.

The door opened and Hazel looked back over his shoulder.

Gretchen approached him with her cheeks flushed red. There was melting snow in her dark hair and she was smiling wide because her training was turning into such a success.

"Hey, Hazel." She said as she pressed in close to the fire at his side. She held her hands up to it and crouched down next to the fire place as she tried to warm up. "Thanks."

"How was training?" Hazel asked, wanting to press on and find out what the secret that was being kept from him was. Maybe if it was just the two of them, she would have gone on and told him. But with their father about to enter the room, she wouldn't share. She never would.

Gretchen shrugged. "Cold." She said. "Dad thought that he heard something out in the forest and wanted to check it out."

That was alarming. "Really?" He asked. "Should we be—"

"Nah." Gretchen said. "He was pretty sure that it was a deer. If it was, he'll probably want you to come and help bring it back."

"Right."

Gretchen eyed him sadly. "What's wrong, Hazel?"

He sighed heavily. "Just tired, I guess." He was hungry and tired. He was tired because he was hungry. He was tired because he missed his family and because he felt so _lonely._

Gretchen set her hand on his shoulder. "You need to go to bed?"

"Later." Hazel mumbled as he pushed himself up to his feet once more. "In case dad needs me."

Gretchen watched him and stood up, walking to his side. "You can at least be comfortable, right?" She put herself right in his space, in a way that she always had going back their entire lives. "That won't hurt."

She was right. Hazel sighed and walked with her over to their family couch where he sat down in the corner, right before Gretchen seated herself at his side and leaned back against him. Her clothes were still damp because she hadn't bothered to change into something that was dry just yet. A couple of minutes by the fire and she'd probably be fine, Hazel knew.

Gretchen smiled softly. "You know that you can join us sometime."

"Maybe." Hazel mumbled back to her. Gretchen's invitation wasn't completely empty, but Hazel wasn't sure that he'd actually be able to join his sister as she made herself stronger. It was odd, how something that he'd witnessed in its full force was also something that was being hidden away from him.

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Maybe we can come up with something to do later." She suggested, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable churning down in Hazel's stomach. "Maybe a board game?"

Hazel rolled his eyes. "You don't even like board games."

"I like _you_ though_._" Gretchen rebutted. "You're my brother."

"Gretchen—"

"You've just been mopey lately, I don't know!" She said. "I mean, you're always kind of mopey, but you're more mopey than usual."

If Hazel had had some sort of answer for her, he would have given it. He _liked_ being honest with Gretchen, because on most days she felt like a part of him and being apart for too long made him just feel empty. He'd been with her since before they were born, how could he be anything _but_ honest with her?

But he wasn't good with words.

He never had been.

So he only shrugged. "I'll be okay." He promised. "Things are just… weird right now."

Her face fell. "Because of dad?"

"No." Hazel mumbled. _Because of you._

"Well, why?" Gretchen prodded him on. "There's clearly _some_ reason."

Hazel swallowed. "I just feel like there's… something that you and dad have, and I'm not a part of it."

She leaned back in her seat, understanding coming over her all at once even though Hazel hadn't quite had the words for what he'd needed to say. "You mean him training me." She mumbled. "Come on, you shouldn't be jealous. You don't even like fighting."

"I just miss you." Hazel cut his sister off. "That's all."

"But Hazel—" Gretchen sighed quietly, and for just a second Hazel thought that she looked so much _older_ than she really was. "_I'm right here. _I haven't gone anywhere."

He swallowed. "Then what are you and dad hiding from me?"

Her face went pale. Her eyes flickered away from him, her jaw snapping shut with an audible click. "I can't tell you." She said after a moment. "It's important that it's a secret."

"I'm your _brother._" Hazel growled back at her. "Since when do we hide things from each other?"

"I don't like it either!" Gretchen cried back at him, seeming just as agitated as he felt in that moment. "Come on, do you think that I _want_ this? I didn't ask to have to be hiding things from you!" She looked away from him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you anyways."

His heart dropped in his chest. "So that's how it'll be then?" He asked. "You keep your secret."

"Yeah." Gretchen wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself in a way that Hazel knew all too well. "I guess so." There was a long pause, one that hanged over the two of them and made the entire room feel cold. "I'm sorry." She whispered, just loud enough that Hazel could hear it. "I wish I could tell you."

She was telling the truth. He _knew_ that she was telling the truth because he knew that Gretchen _always_ wrinkled her nose when she lied. She always had, even back when they were little kids.

But he was still hurt.

"I understand." He mumbled back to his sister. "I just hope that one day you'll be able to say."

"One day." She echoed quietly. "Just… not now." Her nose wrinkled. "But one day."

Hazel's heart dropped into his stomach, so far that he was sure it would never recover.


	9. The Night Before

Gretchen's first day at Beacon Academy came and went. Hazel helped her move into her dorm, even as she protested him being there and doing as much. But she hadn't made him leave, not even when her teammates were doing the same as she was. She hadn't even brought up that she only _really_ had two bags that she was bringing with her and that she _really_ didn't need his help.

She'd let him help, though it wasn't needed.

After that, all Hazel was given was a hug and a goodbye.

That night, for the first time in his entire life, Hazel had learned what it was like to go to sleep without knowing that his sister was a mere room away, or even in the same room.

The first night was the hardest, because all he could think about was how _wrong_ it was. In the end he hadn't ended up sleeping at all. He instead ended up sitting up late on his scroll reading article after article because it felt like the only way to occupy his mind that night.

He knew that he couldn't just _call_ Gretchen. Not when it was so late and she was living with other people.

For the team naming ceremony, Hazel went and watched as his sister was assigned to team GREI.

She was named a leader.

He was proud of her.

He was deathly afraid for her.

His little sister was going to be a _huntress_. She was going to put herself in the line of fire every day, put herself in danger, put herself in an early grave.

Bit by bit, Hazel began to become afraid of certain things that had never bothered him before. He'd never been worried watching the news before in his life. He'd never found himself terrified of every call that came through on his scroll. He'd never dreaded the sight of an airship departing the academy up above the city.

But with time, that fear began to ease, inch by uneasy inch.

Gretchen always made sure to come down to the city to see him on days where she wasn't in classes. She'd come for lunch, just to make sure that the two of them had a little bit of time where they were together. She also made sure to call him every few nights to just let him know that she was okay.

Hazel began to look forward to those calls more than anything else.

He found a job at a little dust shop in the city. Most of what he did was simply move stock in the back because he was big and more than capable of carrying heavy crates from one place to another.

The shop owner didn't know much about him, but once he'd found out that Hazel had a sister at the academy there were questions that started being asked. Like why he wasn't there with her, and whether or not he was worried. Sometimes there was even the odd comment that he would have been a natural fit to become a Huntsman, or that he was somehow a _waste of talen_t.

Hazel knew better than to think there was a waste of talent. Gretchen had more talent in her pinky finger than he had in his entire body.

The next thing Hazel knew, he was being given more and more assignments to bring deliveries up to Beacon in the hopes that he'd get a chance to see his sister.

Most of the time it really did turn out to only be a _chance._ Usually when Hazel was sent on a delivery it was during daylight hours when his sister was in classes. Of the twelve trips that he made up to Beacon, he only managed to see Gretchen for three of them.

One had been because she'd been between classes.

The other two were because her combat instructor had heard that he was coming somehow and given her the chance to be out of the class to see him. Hazel could appreciate it, but it did little to ease his worries.

The truth of the matter was that _every_ time he entered the academy, he had to pass through the front lobby, then the hallway to its left which had been turned into a memorial hall of sorts.

Every time Hazel went to Beacon, he had to pass by the names and faces of students who had lost their lives while at the academy. And he _desperately_ feared that one day he'd arrive to find that his sister was among them.

In a way, his life was a haze. It was getting up, going to work, worrying about his sister, and then going home so that he could sleep before doing the same again.

Gretchen came to his apartment on a Wednesday morning, alone.

She rapped on the door with such _urgency_ that the only thing Hazel could do was let her in, even though she had a key of her own she could have used to let herself in. Hazel went to the door and pulled it open, because he knew that she was the only one that would have come there to see him anyways.

"Hey, Hazel." Gretchen said as she stepped inside, carrying a jar of a thick red syrup. "I brought you something."

"Don't you have classes?"

"Don't you have work?" Gretchen retorted, setting the jar down on the table.

Hazel rolled his eyes. "I don't have to be at work until later." He explained patiently. Gretchen was hurrying her way around his kitchen, pulling open cabinets and drawers in search of something. "Overnight stocking."

"That… sounds boring." Gretchen said before turning to him. "You don't have _anything_ we can use that with." She gestured towards the jar again. "When's the last time you got groceries?"

Hazel shrugged the question off. "I get my paycheck tomorrow." He explained. "You still haven't explained why you're here."

"Oh, right." Gretchen said as she picked up the jar. "Syrup, from the trees at Forever Fall. It's really sweet, kind of nutty. I thought you'd like it. Had to fight off some rapier wasps to get it, but that's not such a big deal." She let out a little laugh. "Went a lot better than going to get honey ever did for us."

Hazel nodded along and took the jar, not quite sure what he wanted to do with it. "And you aren't in classes, because—"

"Oh, right." Gretchen hummed. "Ozpin's sending me and my team on a mission tomorrow. I wanted to… see you before I left. And make sure that you knew about it so you'd worry a little bit less."

Hazel paused. "Where would this be… exactly?"

Gretchen sighed. "It's just a patrol in Mountain Glenn. It should only be a few days, if what Ozpin said was right. Search and destroy, nothing that we can't handle."

And _that_ was the thing that made Hazel really start to worry. Several days in Mountain Glenn could only be _dangerous_, and Gretchen was only sixteen. Her teammates may have been older, but that wasn't enough to make Hazel feel okay with it.

Every night that she was in Mountain Glenn was one where she ran the risk of getting killed.

He let out a heavy breath, barely able to hold in how awful he felt.

Her expression sank all at once. "…Hazel?" Her voice came only as a tiny whisper. "What's wrong?"

"It's too dangerous." He mumbled, burying his face in his hand. "I can't lose you too."

"Hazel…" She pressed in close to him, a hand on his arm. "Come on, you know that I can handle myself, don't you?" She pressed in closer, gripping onto him tight enough that he couldn't just ignore her. "I'm a Huntress. I may be in training, but that's what I am. Ozpin wouldn't be giving us this mission if he didn't think that we could handle it."

Hazel shook his head, unable to find a single word that he could say to her. Nothing would make him feel better short of hearing that she _wasn't going._

There was a quiet breath out of Gretchen. "It's a training mission. Professor Ozpin is even going to be with us. We're going to be okay."

"And what if you _aren't?"_ Hazel asked Gretchen through his hands. "What if I have to bury you too? Or you never come back?"

"That isn't going to happen." Gretchen stood up tall and crossed her arms over her chest. "You've always worried too much. Why can't you trust that I've got this? It's just a training mission. Hundreds happen every year. There's nothing to worry about."

"And how many fail every year?" Hazel snarled back at his sister. "How many students never come home?"

Gretchen stared back at him, clearly not sure what she was even supposed to say to him. Hazel pushed his hand through his hair and brushed it away from his face. He turned away from his sister, dead certain that she was going to be furious with him for what he'd just said.

She let out a heavy breath. "I know that you're upset and scared. But you don't have the right to treat me badly because of it." He heard her footsteps retreating. "You know, I can't help but think that you're _always_ angry at me for choosing Beacon. Here's the truth, Hazel. I like it there. I'm happy. I'm _good_ at being a huntress. I'm not going to let you stop me."

"I know you aren't." Hazel grumbled back. "Just make sure you come home."

"Stop worrying about me so much." She replied. "I'll talk to you when I'm back."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Gretchen replied quietly. "I'd probably feel the same way if I were you. But you won't stop me. I'm choosing this life."

"I love you." Hazel mumbled. "You know that right?"

"Yeah." Gretchen said. "I know." She crossed the room and Hazel felt her arms wrap around him him, her lips pressing to his cheek. "You're my twin brother. You could never stop loving me, I know that. Being apart is… hard." Gretchen admitted. "I at least have my teammates to make it less lonely. You don't have that and that has to be really difficult."

There was a pause. "Just don't treat me like some kid. That's all I'm asking. I know that you're pretty much living as an adult now—" Gretchen cast a glance around the room. "But so am I. Just because I'm at a school that doesn't change."

"We're sixteen." Hazel mumbled. "Neither of us should be living like adults."

Gretchen shrugged. "It's not like either of us have had much of a choice. We're both on our own."

"We shouldn't have to be."

"But we are." Gretchen said. "Dad _died_. And it's not like we ever had a mom around for us."

Hazel sighed. "I'm just afraid one of us will end up alone."

Gretchen nodded along. "And it's more likely to be you, since I'm the one going out and doing dangerous things all day, right?"

"Right."

She leaned against him. "I wish you could have come to Beacon too." Gretchen admitted. "But being honest, you probably would have hated it."

"Probably."

Gretchen hugged him. "Two days. I'll be back, and I'll be fine. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that."

She laughed. "I know you are."

Hazel let himself give in, if only for the moment. He let his eyes slip shut and let his hands cover Gretchen's where they overlapped on his shoulders.

She had to come home.

She had to.


	10. The Night That It Happened

"Get up!" The shouting made Hazel shoot upright. Gretchen did the same in her bed, just across the room. Their father was there at the door, covered in sweat and soot with a wild look in his eyes that Hazel had never seen before.

Gretchen climbed out of her bed. "What's going on?"

"We have to go." Their father said without offering any explanation. "Now. We don't have time to waste."

"But—" Gretchen started, sounding just as concerned and confused as Hazel felt. "What's—"

"We don't have time to talk." Their father grumbled, grabbing onto Gretchen's hand and pulling her along behind him. Hazel got up and ran after the two of them, afraid for what was happening.

As soon as he was out of their room he _heard_ what was happening.

Shouting, for one. Panicked and loud and frenetic to the point where Hazel could almost feel the panic begin to set in for him as well.

"Dad?" Hazel asked, bitter fear clutching onto him and burrowing its way down into his chest so intensely that he couldn't possibly ignore it. His entire body felt cold.

They got outside of the cabin and saw that there was a gathering of people from the village there. Off in the distance, on the horizon Hazel saw the bright red glow of fire.

"Bandits." Was the only explanation given. "We have to leave now, before they find all of us."

Gretchen's eyes went wide as her gaze darted between their father and the flames, realizing just how bad things were. She stepped forward, her hands out and too confident for her own good. "Let me—"

"No!" Their father shouted. "You're going to sit down, you're going to be quiet, and you're going to get out of this with everyone else."

"I can help!" Gretchen protested. "Please, just let me—"

Hazel reached out and grabbed onto his sister to pull her back before she could continue to argue with their father.

"Gretchen," Hazel hissed into his sister's ear. "We have to stay low, and—"

"No, please—" She pulled away from him so hard that Hazel couldn't help but lose his grip on his sister. "Dad, you _know_ I can help. You know I'm good enough!"

"It's not a good idea."

Hazel watched his sister's expression flatten into anger. "But I'm a—"

"A _child_." Their father said. He looked from the two of them to the crowd of villagers that had gathered. "Get into the cart. Both of you. We don't have time for this."

Hazel tugged at his sister's arm. "Come on." He grumbled for her to hear. She shot him a look of absolute betrayal and then looked from Hazel to their father instead.

"What happens then?" She was all but shouting. "We get int the cart and we go where? Vale?"

Their father didn't answer. Neither did any of the villagers.

"Shouldn't we try to fight?"

There was a moment of quiet, punctuated only by the sounds of chaos from where the village was. "The longer we're here, the more likely they are to notice us." Their father ordered. A large cracking sound rang through in the distance. "And the longer we're here, the more likely we are to have to fight the grimm."

Hazel wrapped his arms around his sister, knowing that the absolute _worst_ thing he could have done was let go. He pulled his sister towards the cart, even as she thrashed against him. "I can save them—" Gretchen gasped as Hazel pulled her. "Come on, I can—"

"Gretchen!" Hazel snarled at his sister. "We have to focus on running, and surviving."

She glared back at him and grit her teeth before she thrashed out of Hazel's arms and began the sprint towards the village. Everyone seemed to realize what was happening all at once. The villagers came to the understanding of just what was happened, and then before Hazel could start after his sister their father was already doing the same.

Gretchen was going to get herself _killed._

_No_, Hazel realized belatedly.

She was going to get herself _and_ their father both killed.

All at once, Hazel realized that he only had one choice himself.

He launched himself from the cart and broke into a sprint after his sister, his heart pounding too hard in his chest and tears already beginning to well up in his eyes because the reality of what he was _certain_ was about to happen was too heavy for him to ever be able to survive it.

One thing hadn't changed since he and Gretchen were kids. She was still fast, and agile. Their father was able to keep up with her for the most part though. Hazel, as always, struggled to keep up with his family but he had no choice but to force himself to try.

Gretchen kept looking back over her shoulder at the rest of them, like she was determined to get as far away from the rest of her family as she possibly could.

"Gretchen!" Their father shouted for her to slow down and come back, the reality of what they were running towards having been almost forgotten all at once.

Off somewhere in the distance, Hazel thought he heard a _roar._

Grimm.

"Gretchen!" He called as well. "Stop!"

She turned quickly, landing on top of a log with the flaps of her coat blowing in the wind as she stood there. Her head whipped around just as their father met the same area as her.

Up ahead, Hazel saw his family.

He also saw black shadows among the treetops.

Without knowing what else he was supposed to do, Hazel _shouted_ for his family to see what he had.

Their father was first to act, putting himself in closer to Gretchen because she was the one that was closer. He drew his bow off of his back, and Hazel felt _everything_ in him go cold at the realization that there weren't going to be enough arrows for him to fight off a number of grimm. There weren't going to be enough arrows if the bandits noticed them either.

And Gretchen…

The grimm drew in closer and close, Hazel sprinted forward because he needed to do something, anything, he had to help somehow.

The first arrow was nocked and drawn, their father taking aim at one of the grimm that were up in the treetops.

"Get down!" The man shouted. "Both of you."

Gretchen didn't move though, she just stared up at the grimm in the treetops like she was going to fight them, even though she was only thirteen like Hazel was.

She was going to die.

They were all going to die.

Hazel sprinted towards his sister, hopeful that he'd be able to convince her to step down, to live another day, to be there with him in the morning when the time came to wake up, if they ever got to wake up.

But Gretchen's eyes began to glow, the flames licking out of the corners of them and all at once _everything_ in that forest changed. The wind whipped around them so hard that Hazel could feel his clothing beginning to tear. He dropped his head down in an attempt to protect himself from it as the leaves began to cut like daggers, flying up, up, up into the treetops.

The amount of smoke that began to rise up from where they were was too much.

Hazel looked up to see that Gretchen was there, hovering _feet_ off of the ground as she used her powers, whatever they were.

Their father was running towards Gretchen, even though she was above him and not seeming to pay any attention to them. But as he ran, she looked down and Hazel couldn't see _anything_ in his sister's eyes. Her expression twisted into one of anger and then she was _flying_ towards the village to try and save it.

"Dad?" Hazel looked over at his father.

"She can't take them." His father said, breathless. "She's going to—"

Hazel understood. "We have to go after her." He pushed himself up to his feet, as terrified as he was resolute in knowing that he had to get out to his sister. They had to save her, to stop her, to do something.

His father gave him a look, one that Hazel hadn't seen in a long time. It was the one that demanded that he be the responsible one among the twins. It was the one that said _you're the one that has to lead_.

"You can't fight." Their father told him.

"She's my sister." Hazel growled back, and then he was sprinting in the same direction that his sister had flown in.

It was seconds before Hazel heard his father's footsteps behind him, running in the same direction and towards the same, likely forsaken goal.


	11. The Messenger

Hazel set a heavy crate of Dust down in the back of the shop. His back was _aching._ It had been for most of the day, since he'd been hard at work the second that he'd come in and his boss hadn't come in for a personal reason. It didn't help that it was a slow day, a little too quiet for his tastes, all things considered. Having slept poorly the night before only added upon the strain that he was feeling.

But it gave him a chance to catch up on stocking in the back so he did that, only going up to the front of the shop when the little bell above the door rang to indicate that a customer had arrived.

Gretchen was supposed to be arriving back at Beacon that night, Hazel reminded himself as he stretched and walked to the front of the shop again, just to make it clear that someone was in fact there. Usually he wasn't left alone at the store, but it happened every so often.

So for a little bit he just stood there and checked some order statuses for the shop. There was a couple of people that were meant to be coming in to pick up some Dust later on in the day. He'd need to be there for them, and then if his boss didn't arrive he'd have to stay until close at the very least.

Hazel hoped that Gretchen wouldn't go to his apartment thinking that he would be there. After all, she was supposed to come and see him, and they were going to have dinner together. If he was stuck at work until close, then he wouldn't have the time to make something for them to eat. He could go up to Beacon to see her, but that wasn't exactly appropriate.

After some thought, Hazel sent a single message off to his sister, just to let her know that he was probably staying late.

She didn't answer him.

She hadn't answered him even hours later.

But she was on a mission, Hazel told himself. It was entirely likely that she just didn't have the time to answer messages.

But then hours later, Hazel was locking up the shop and on his way back to his apartment, with horrible worry stirring in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't just ignore. There was something wrong, and he didn't know what it was.

His sister was supposed to be home.

It was just a training mission, Hazel began to tell himself on repeat. There was a veteran huntsman with the team, they were _fine._ It was possible that they were just running behind schedule, but also…

What if that wasn't it? What if there was something going on, something that he was missing, something that he was dreading?

In the end, Hazel spent most of his night at the kitchen table that he'd salvaged from his father's home, nursing a mug of tea that he'd sweetened with the red syrup that Gretchen had brought him. It went cold after an hour, and Hazel never bothered to heat it back up, or pour himself another cup.

He was too sick to sleep. Too sick to eat, to do anything other than sit there and stare at his scroll.

But the morning came without him hearing anything, and Hazel forced himself through his day. He forced himself to go to work even though he was exhausted and hunger clawed at his stomach. He forced himself to carry box after box of Dust and to stock shelves, and when it was time for his break he could think of nothing to do but sit at the tiny plastic table in the back and read the little usage manual that came with every Dust shipment. He'd likely read it fifteen times over at that point, but it wasn't as though there was much else to do.

It was nearing the end of his shift when his boss came into the back room where Hazel was sweeping out some debris that had gathered over the day.

"Hazel." He said, his voice serious. "Someone is here to see you."

All at once, that cold dread settled into every fibre of Hazel's being once more. Worse than it had ever before, so bad that he could barely breathe all of a sudden. If it had been Gretchen, his boss would have told him.

But he leaned the broom against a shelf and dusted his hands off before he went to the front.

Professor Ozpin was standing there.

Hazel froze in the doorway.

No.

It couldn't be.

All at once Hazel

Just

Went

Numb.


	12. The End Of Life As He Knew It

The village was burning, quicker than anyone could have ever hoped to have been able to save it properly. There was the shouting of villagers that were doing their best to escape the carnage, only to be met with the sounds and jeers of the bandits that had come to raid in the first place. The fire had turned the entire landscape into a bright orange glow.

The market where Hazel and Gretchen had gone to with their father so many times had been destroyed, one of the first places to be looted.

There were homes aflame, buildings with their windows knocked out and shattered glass left to scatter over the ground.

And there in the middle of it was Gretchen.

What had formed around her could only be described as a _vortex,_ one that threatened to swallow up everything to go with it.

Hazel saw his sister, surrounded by flames, fighting the men that had come to the village.

He saw his father, charging ahead and shouting _something_ that he couldn't quite make out.

He saw his father, nocking an arrow.

He saw his father taking aim at a bandit that was aiming at Gretchen with a rifle.

He saw—

The bandit fell, a gunshot ringing out so loud that it rang through the whole burning town.

Hazel whipped his head to be sure that he'd heard it from the right place, but he hadn't.

When he looked back, his father was on the ground, dark red leaking out of him and staining the ground around him. Hazel looked between his sister and his father, his father that was dying, his father that was bleeding out, and he broke into a sprint towards where his father had fallen.

He couldn't just stand there and do _nothing._

The entire scene was somehow managing to fade into static in the back of Hazel's mind, to the point where he was only aware of his father, the wind, and his sister. The bandits didn't matter.

_Nothing _mattered.

As far as he was concerned, the world was ending.

He skidded to a stop beside his father, all too aware of how vulnerable he was by just being there, but he dropped down to the the body all the same.

Red wept from the center of his chest. Hazel reached out and carefully peeled his father's shirt to the side to see that it was just as he feared. He swallowed hard, the worst possibilities beginning to dawn on him and then pressed his finger's to his father's neck.

No pulse.

Dead.

Hazel sucked in a breath that was too difficult to get down. He forced himself up to his feet and looked up at his sister.

When she looked back at him, Hazel saw the horror that dawned on her expression.

Hazel looked away from his sister, and walked away from the village.

The wind began to slow, and soon she was there behind him.

Hazel didn't want to talk.

There was nothing to talk about.

When they reached the cabin again, the villagers had gone off ahead in search of help.

It took Hazel too long to realize that his clothes were covered in his father's blood.

When the realization set in, he didn't know what to do with himself.

Everything had been fine.

And then it hadn't.

And he was suppose to figure out where to pick up the pieces, if that was even possible.

Hazel had never felt more alone, more lost, more hopeless.

He sat in those clothes for longer than he should have.

It was a miracle the grimm didn't come.


	13. The First Two Stages

Hazel started blocking out the world around him, bit by horrible bit.

It started out small. It was him choosing to skip work or refusing to pick up the phone because he didn't know how he was meant to talk about what had happened. He was sure that his boss had figured out what was going on, but still he kept on calling.

Hazel never found it in himself to answer. There were no words that could ever hope to explain the depths of sadness he was dwelling in. No way to explain that his only family he had left was _dead_ and he couldn't do anything about it, or how he'd never felt so alone.

Four days in, an officer came knocking on Hazel's door for a _wellness check._

Hazel had done his best to talk his way out of it, and when he was left alone the only thing that he wanted to do was the same thing that he'd been doing for days. He went back to bed because he didn't know what there was to do anymore.

Gretchen was _gone_ and the people around him were expecting for him to carry on like he was fine, and everything was okay.

All Hazel could think about was how his sister had died, probably scared and in pain and afraid.

Alone.

He closed his eyes, and let the numbness wash over him again.

It was quickly becoming a crutch, Hazel realized when he found himself going _numb_ so much more often than he ever should have. It was the only refuge that he could retreat into anymore, that overwhelming empty feeling.

It made Hazel realize that what Gretchen had used wasn't a semblance. It was something else entirely, something that he didn't want to have to contend with. Something else that he didn't even know how to describe anymore.

After two weeks, he made himself go to work again.

When he got there, Hazel went straight into the back room to try and carry on with his job as normal. He was allowed to be there for five hours before his boss came back to see him and talk.

"I'm surprised you're here." He said, watching as Hazel swept the floors in the stock room. He'd swept them five times that day already. He didn't know what else to do with himself. Every time he ran out of things to do, he swept. It was quickly becoming more of a habit than Hazel strictly liked. "Since you went silent for so long."

Hazel stopped where he was. He was going to have to _talk_ about it. To act like _anything_ was okay and carry on as such.

There was a pause. "Look, son—"

"Don't." Hazel growled back at the man.

"Okay." The man said. "Hazel. Just tell me what happened."

"My sister died." Hazel muttered. "She died on a _training mission_, there was a Huntsman _there_ and she still _died._" His grip on the broom handled tightened a little too much, to the point where he could feel the wood trying to splinter under his hands.

It was _rage_ that he hadn't known that he'd even had until right then. Anger and pain and everything all wrapped up into one thing. Realizing what he'd done, Hazel let the broom drop down to the floor in front of his feet. He didn't want to have to talk about what he was feeling _at all_ and now that it had started it didn't feel like it was going to stop.

His boss seemed to consider drawing in close, offering comfort.

But he didn't.

Hazel turned away from him. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

"There's no easy answers for that." His boss said, taking a seat on one of the two chairs in the back room that were meant for the two of them. "Are you doing alright?"

"No." Hazel admitted, taking a seat himself. He folded his hands together in front of him, gripping onto himself a little too harshly. "She's gone."

There was a pause. "How old?"

"We're—" Hazel started and shook his head. He was older than her now.

He was older than his sister.

It wasn't by an hour or two anymore.

"We were twins."

"Oh." His boss said. "You think you're good to be here?"

"No." Hazel replied truthfully. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore."

It was still true. It seemed like no matter how many times he said it, it was always going to be true.

"Look—" His boss looked Hazel straight in the eye, something which wasn't exactly easy to do given the height difference between the two of them. "You gave me one hell of a scare this last week. You can't just go dark on people like that." There was a pause. "I was the one that made the call to get you a wellness check."

Hazel was silent.

What was there to even say?

There was a pause. "Go home." His boss said, standing up. "Take a shower and try to rest. Eat an honest meal and _don't let yourself wallow in this._" He gave Hazel a distinctly pitying look. "I know that isn't exactly what you want to hear right now, but your sister wouldn't want you to do this."

Hazel nodded, empty and cold as he'd felt for days.

"I'm serious, Hazel." He said. "You're a good kid. This is going to be hard for a while. You can't drown in it."

And maybe that was true.

But that didn't change that the overwhelming thing that he felt was anger.

He left work after that.

For reasons that he didn't quite understand until he had already unboarded from the transport that was meant to take him home, Hazel found himself at Beacon.

His first thought immediately upon looking around there was that it was a horrible, wretched place. Everyone there was just carrying on with their lives like _nothing was wrong _and _nothing had happened._

One of their own had _died_ and none of them even seemed to so much as care.

For them to be able to carry on like everything was _normal_, there had to be something _sick_ about them.

Gretchen was _dead_ and these students dared to live their lives as though there was no changes, no loss of life, no bodies that wouldn't inhabit their dorms anymore.

He shoved his hands down into his pockets, and hanged his head as he made a beeline for the large building in the middle of the campus. He wanted to just get a chance to speak to Ozpin, to pick apart what had happened to his sister so that he could get a chance of sleeping again. He _needed_ answers, and Hazel wasn't certain that he'd ever get them.

The least that he could do was try.

When he went in, Hazel could hear one of the students behind him calling his name— one of Gretchen's friends. He'd met the girl once, but doubted that he would have actually remembered her name.

It didn't feel like it mattered. Maybe it had, once. Not anymore.

Deep in his pockets, Hazel's hands curled into fists.

And once he was inside, Hazel began to ascend Beacon Tower in the hopes of getting a meeting with Ozpin.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that he'd arrived during Ozpin's open office hours, no doubt set aside for students instead of—

Well, him.

Hazel lingered outside the door for a moment too long, unsure of whether or not he should go in and try to confront the professor. He was too angry and too upset by _everything_ to know that he'd be able to get what he needed out of it.

What happened if he didn't hear what he needed to and lost himself even more?

Or what happened if he was given a full truth, and it was a thousand times worse than he could have ever imagined? What if it was his sister being taken into the maw of some beast? Or her being killed by another person? What if it was bandits, like the ones that had taken their father?

What if there were no answers to be given at all?

It was a training mission, though. There had to be answers of some sort. There had been a professor on the mission.

Gretchen had said that it was Ozpin going with them.

There needed to be answers, and Hazel needed to hear them.

He pushed the door open.

Ozpin was there, behind a desk while he nursed a mug of something that was hot enough to have steam rising off of it. The professor lifted his head up, likely expecting to see some student and a look of genuine surprise settled over his expression at the sight of Hazel.

"Mister Rainart." He said, setting the mug down in front of him. "I have to admit to being surprised that you're here." There was a long pause. "You and your family have my greatest condolences."

"No family." Hazel growled back, taking a seat as it was offered to him. He balled his hands into fists as they rested on his knees. "Not anymore."

"Even still." Ozpin said. "I'm terribly sorry about your loss. I assume that's the reason for this visit?"

Hazel nodded slowly.

"Of course." Ozpin sighed. "Would you like to—"

"I want to know what happened." Hazel growled out. "Why my sister is gone."

"Mister Rainart—" Ozpin's expression sank into something deathly serious. "I understand your pain but I must advise you against this course of action for your own sake."

"I need to know." Hazel grit back, his fists tightening because he didn't know what else he was supposed to do. "Please."

Ozpin stared at him, something going on behind his eyes that Hazel couldn't quite— nor particularly cared to try to identify. He was upset. He wanted to know what had happened to his sister because he needed to be able to sleep at night again. That was all that there was to it.

Besides, a sick, twisted dark part of Hazel whispered in the back of his mind, it was too likely that Ozpin had dealt with dead students before. There was no way that Hazel was the first grieving family member to have gone to him seeking help or closure of _something_ because it was the only thing that could be done at at that point.

No, Hazel told himself, Ozpin had to be used to it.

He needed for Ozpin to be used to it, to know the right ways to deal with things, the right words, the right comforts.

Hazel didn't even know what he was actually looking for, just that he needed it.

But the professor sighed. "Would you perhaps like something to drink?" He asked evenly. "I always have hot cocoa—"

"No." Hazel cut him off. "Just tell me."

"I'm afraid that it might not be wise." Ozpin said. "And if you would like I could refer you to a number of great therapists in the city. I understand that you think that you know what you're doing, and that you need this. I don't believe that is the case."

Hazel grit his teeth to the point where it almost became painful.

"I just want to know." He grumbled. "That's all."

Ozpin's expression sank. "Very well." He said, resigning himself to the truth. "Tell me what you want to know."

And so Hazel did.

And Hazel only regretted it because the answers that he got were so much more than he was actually able to handle.

He broke.


	14. The One With Expectations

Returning to the cabin, knowing that he would never see his father again was the hardest thing that Hazel had ever done. Gretchen went with him because she was in the same place as he.

That, and it wasn't as though either of them had anywhere else to go. All that they had left was each other, and yet they didn't exactly speak to each other until after their father had been buried properly.

Even then, Hazel hadn't known what there was to say or do anymore. He felt too broken and hurt and sad to truly comprehend everything that was happening around him.

But at the same time there was this other thing that was beginning to build in his mind as his father's words began to play in his head on repeat. It was as though a thousand cautions and warnings were coming to relevance all at once.

Responsibility, power, compassion, caretaking.

All things that he had seen his father act on, all things that he had hoped he wouldn't have to be fully saddled with until much, much later in his life.

He was too young. So was Gretchen.

But as things stood, he was the one that had to be the _man of the house_. He was the one who needed to figure out the best ways to provide for the two of them, and to find ways to keep them safe, and everything else that came with it.

Hazel started small, by making dinners out of what was left in their family's fridge which he knew never managed to quite hit the mark, no matter how much Gretchen would grin and bear it with a smile that never met her eyes.

He began to read cookbooks that had been written in with their mother's— and it _had_ to be their mother's— even scrawl. All little notes for how to make the meals more palatable, all ideas on how to cut down on the cooking time.

In truth, the notes were rather hit and miss as far as how successful of ideas they were.

If Gretchen noticed any improvement after Hazel started reading their mother's old cookbooks, she never mentioned it. In the same way, Hazel never mentioned their mother's little notes because the truth was that he and Gretchen_ both_ had complicated feelings on the matter, ones which neither of them were likely to ever be able to ignore or work through.

Losing a parent that neither of them had known was one thing. Their mother had died before the two of them could have ever even began to remember her. She'd died barely hours after Gretchen had drawn her first breaths and Hazel had done the same.

It was another thing to lose their father, the man that had raised them since their infancy. There had been help at various points in their upbringing, but at the end it was always their father.

Their father that was now _gone._

Their father that was never to return.

Their father that had left too-large shoes for Hazel to fill.

And perhaps it wasn't out of the question that he'd started acting _differently_ since their father had died. Most of the time he didn't want to do much of _anything_ anymore, he only wanted to rest and lay in bed or sleep. Gretchen would do what she could to make him spend time with her, but in the end all that Hazel felt really capable of was the things that he _had_ to do.

It was close to noon on a Thursday, a whole month after their father's death when Hazel was surprised by the feeling of his sister's arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"Tell me what's going on." She urged him quietly, not leaving any sort of room for argument. It wasn't a question.

"Nothing is going on." Hazel offered as a weak protest, shrugging his way out of his sister's arms. He didn't want her draping herself over him like she usually would. "Why?"

"I miss you." Gretchen said as she took a seat beside him, the same way that she always would when he was despondent in one way or another. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know." Hazel echoed, feeling more hollow than he had before. "It's not your fault."

Whether he actually believed that or not, Hazel didn't know.

Gretchen's expression hardened though, her brow settling into a look of pure determination. "I'm never going to let something like this happen again, you know that right?"

And maybe he did. If he did, how was he meant to be able to tell her that? How was he supposed to carry on as though nothing was wrong? As though he wasn't so badly _hurt_ by the fact that their father was gone and would never be returning?

How was he meant to say that he'd been having nightmares, just about every night since? How was he supposed to explain that he was so exhausted because he could barely sleep, or because he could barely shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before something else came knocking down the door to what was now _his_ house?

How was Hazel meant to say _any_ of that to Gretchen, when he knew that she would only start beating herself up worse over it if he did?

"I know." Hazel said, though the words were so damned _empty._

Empty.

That was how he felt.

Empty, and hurt, and sad, and scared, and _overwhelmed._

"I'll be okay." He gave Gretchen a false reassurance, one that he'd never be able to truly fulfill himself for at least some time. He just needed time. That had to be it— he just didn't have the time that he needed to be able to grieve for their father properly.

"It doesn't seem like it." Gretchen said, catching his head and making him tilt his head to rest against her shoulder. She was trying to force him to relax and get comfortable, perhaps even sleep. "Why don't you let me take things over for a bit?" She offered, and god Hazel _wanted _to say yes, but—

But he couldn't.

He didn't know why, he just _couldn't._

Gretchen stroked her fingers through his hair. "I know that you need it." She offered him quietly. "And you know that I can handle things, Hazel."

"I'd rather you don't." He said. "Please."

An expression crossed her face that made it seem like he'd just _slapped_ her.

"Hazel?"

"I just need this right now— the working." Hazel grit out, as much as it hurt him to do so, hurt him to _know_ that he was hurting his sister in the process. "Please just let me have it."

Gretchen gave him the saddest look that he'd ever seen on her face.

"Alright." She whispered to him before she slinked away and left Hazel to his work, to filling shoes that were far too big for him to ever fill. "If you say so."

When she left the room, Hazel couldn't help the feeling that something was gone that he was never going to be able to get back. Something precious had just slid through his fingers and he had absolutely no idea how he was meant to handle it.

But then again, Hazel knew, it wasn't a matter of how.

It was a matter of whether it got done or not.

So for a little while, he found a way to pull himself together.

If only for a little while.


	15. The Lady Of Bone

It wasn't long before Hazel truly began to live out his days in a haze, anger slowly growing in his chest to the point where he couldn't contain it anymore. The glass bottle of his soul was on the brink of shattering and destroying everything in its immediate vicinity.

It didn't matter who got hurt, anymore.

Ozpin had let his sister die.

Hazel had nobody left in the universe.

He'd made himself live out the week since his face to face meeting with Beacon's headmaster. It had been difficult but sadly all too necessary. He'd been recommended therapy that he couldn't afford.

Going to a support group he'd been able to afford though.

It hadn't helped.

Instead, he only learned that children were thrown headfirst into a broken system that would only rob them of their lives and their freedoms. An old woman there had looked at him like he was the most pitiful creature that she had ever seen in all of her days. A man had talked about how his son had died a decade prior.

When it had been Hazel's turn to speak, he'd been so angry that he couldn't get a word out.

And then he'd left, barely halfway through the meeting.

Life turned into a horrible loop.

Get up, eat, go to work, eat, go to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It quickly became apparent that Hazel just had nothing to live for anymore. The only sweetness that his life had ever known was _gone_ and it was because of the negligence of someone powerful that could have undoubtedly acted and intervened before things went that far.

Gretchen hadn't needed to die.

None of it had _needed_ to happen.

She was too young.

_He_ was too young to be alone in the world like he was.

And yet he was supposed to carry on like normal.

What was _wrong_ with people? How could they not see how he was suffering?

Somewhere in the haze, something just _snapped_. Hazel didn't know what it was, or when, or why it happened specifically but it _happened_. He didn't know what drove him to go to work, to steal dust out of the supply room before he went home for the night.

He didn't know what drove him to clear out his fridge.

He didn't know what drove him to pick his way out into the middle of Forever Fall.

He didn't know why he couldn't make himself turn around and go back to Vale, back to the apartment that was a poor excuse for a home.

Or maybe he knew _exactly _why, and just didn't want to face the ugly reality of it.

Maybe what he _wanted_ was for the grimm to come breathing blood down his neck, maybe he had taken the Dust because he wanted to make it seem as though some token effort had been put up to prevent a death that he wouldn't let himself feel. Maybe the reason that he'd cleared out his fridge was because it was a mere courtesy for whoever would go to his apartment when they realized that he was _gone._

Maybe the reason that he'd gone to Forever Fall was because he wanted to die there.

Like his sister had.

Because maybe that way there was something that resembled poetic or good in the world.

Or maybe, he just didn't know what else he was supposed to do. He didn't want to live out a sham of a life like he had been anymore.

So he found a rock in the woods, spread his coat over top of it, and he sat there.

He sat there for hours and just waited for the grimm to come. He knew what his plan was, to use his semblance and plunge the Dust into his flesh like the pamphlets at work _specifically_ instructed people not to do. He would put up his token resistance, just enough that it looked more like an _attack_ and less like the act of suicide that it was_._

And then he'd just let the grimm have him and try to keep his semblance going for as long as he could.

If he got lucky, he wouldn't have to feel a thing.

If he could have given Gretchen that same courtesy, he would have. But she was gone and she didn't have his semblance.

He didn't actually know what his sister's semblance was.

If she even knew how to use it, even.

Everything that Hazel had thought he'd seen in her, was something else. It was always something else.

The hours passed by, too slow and torturous for Hazel's liking.

Nothing came.

More hours passed by, same as before.

Nothing came.

Hazel curled into a ball on the rock and let himself sleep.

Even still, nothing came.

When Hazel woke, he felt just as bad as he had when he'd fallen asleep. He took to pacing around the forest, shivering against the cool morning air but never bothering to use his semblance. He was going to need it when the grimm came.

He wanted it to be painless, when he died.

Gretchen hadn't had that benefit. Their mother hadn't had that luxury. Their father hadn't had it either.

But he did, and so Hazel intended to use it.

He lost track of time, and didn't allow himself to even consider checking it for the fear of what would come if he did. Hazel _needed_ the lack of awareness, if he gave himself too much he would find himself losing his nerve.

Above all else, that was the major thing that he couldn't allow to happen.

If he didn't do it, he'd end up going back to a shitty apartment with nothing to live for. It would only be a matter of time before he was out there in the forest again, waiting for the same outcome that he was already looking forward to.

But where were the Grimm? Where were those beasts that fed upon negative emotions? That came when tears were shed, or when words were shouted in anger?

He was _actively _seeking his own death— he should have been like a drug to the grimm.

But still none came.

Nothing came to ease his pain in the only way that he could see anymore.

After some time Hazel was overcome with sheer _rage._ He slammed a fist into a tree and felt the wood splinter under his skin.

He felt no pain.

Something in him just _snapped._ Hazel didn't even know what it was but something was just _gone_ and it wasn't until his hands were bleeding that he realized that he'd just gone berserk and beaten the wood so badly that it had begun to ruin his hands in the process.

Hazel was breathing hard. There were hot tears beaded in his eyes and this feeling that he was just _nothing_.

All at once, he collapsed to the ground. He laid there in the leaves, sobbing into them because he simply had nothing else to do with himself.

Why couldn't the grimm just come for him?

He wouldn't even fight them. He just wanted them to come so that it would all end.

Again the time passed and Hazel made no effort to keep track of it.

He only laid there.

It was minutes to dusk when he heard the first of the growling sounds. Hazel lifted his head, only slightly and felt sick _relief_ when he saw the red eyes glowing amongst the trees. They were waiting for him.

They were finally coming for him.

Hazel closed his eyes and let his head rest against the forest floor, bringing up his aura and feeling that familiar _nothing_ wash over him as his semblance took hold.

But the grimm didn't touch him.

They circled him, they stared at him, but they did not move to attack him.

"I can tell that you are awake, my child." A female voice said from somewhere at Hazel's side. "Pretending to sleep will not fool me."

Hazel cracked his eyes open and looked back over his shoulder. There was a bolt of black fabric which could only have been a gown directly within his line of sight. When he let his gaze travel upward he saw something….

Something _amazing_.

Something which could have come from another world entirely.

Something which _only_ could have come from another world.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright and turned to face her, putting his back to the trees. The grimm drew in closer— beowulves, all of them. But none attacked. None snapped their jaws at him or tried to claw him to bits like the stories said.

The woman stood there, her white hands folded together against her stomach. Black veins covered the appendages.

"What…" Hazel began to ask. "What are you?"

"That does not matter." She said, as she lowered herself to crouch beside him. Hazel looked from the black silk of her gown to the leaves. She was going to get it dirty. "What matters is that you are here."

Hazel swallowed his fear. He wouldn't let her know anything.

"Who are you?" He asked instead, not sure that any answer would be enough.

"My name is Salem." She replied. "You've been calling for my creatures."

Hazel looked from her— Salem to the grimm at her side. When she lifted a hand, one of the beowulves came to her and nuzzled its bone head under her touch. Like an obedient pet responding to its master's call.

When she stared at him, it was with oddly gentle red eyes.

"Why do you seek them?"

Hazel said nothing, but he balled his hands into fists. There was something seriously wrong, and he didn't know how he was meant to handle it. "Because—" He started, only to be silenced with a slight wave of the woman's hand.

"You seek your own death." Salem stated. There wasn't a question to be asked— nobody would do what he had done if that wasn't what they were looking for.

Hazel supposed that his lack of protest against the statement said all that needed to be said.

She eyed him. "Why?"

"My sister died."

"A pity." She replied. "How?"

"She was a student." Hazel offered as little as he could. "At Beacon."

Salem seemed to take on more interest right then. As soon as Beacon had been mentioned, she was reaching out and offering Hazel a hand. He didn't take it, only used his own arms to support himself better where he rested.

But when she spoke, it was almost an affectionate coo. "Your sister died at Beacon?" She asked. "And how old was she?"

"Sixteen." Hazel admitted.

Her head cocked to the side. "And you?"

"Sixteen." Hazel replied. "We…" Talking about her in the past sense was so wrong that Hazel hated everything about it. "We were twins."

"My sincerest condolences." She said softly. "What is your name?"

"Hazel."

"Your sister?"

"Gretchen."

Salem sighed softly and looked past Hazel's shoulders, up at something so far away that Hazel could have wondered whether or not she was able to see through the trees. "Was Ozpin teaching her?"

"He was _there."_ Hazel growled, balling his hands into even tighter fists. "And he did _nothing_."

Salem smiled softly. "And what would you do to him?" She asked. "If you could."

"I just want justice for her."

"Be more specific." Salem said, standing tall. "An eye for an eye, perhaps? I can feel your rage. It's pouring off of you. Rage, and sadness. Hate."

_Feel?_

It was then that Hazel realized that this Salem may have been more grimm than he'd originally thought. Was that how she'd known to come for him? She could _feel_ him?

Salem drew in close though, even offered him a hand so that he could take it in his own and accept her. Something about the idea of doing as much felt wrong to Hazel, but he didn't know that he wanted to bring it up.

Mostly, he was upset, and sad, and scared because he was on the edge of losing the nerve to do what he'd come out to the forest to do in the first place.

She eyed him. "You came here to die." Salem stated it as matter-of-factly as possible. There was no room left for argument. Even if there was, Hazel wasn't going to dispute it. But he was losing his nerve and he didn't know what he was supposed to do if he went back to Vale. He'd done a good job of trying to burn every bridge there. "Do you wish to see justice for your sister?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Then you should come with me, child." Salem said, her fingers still extended to him. "I believe that I may have the keys to what you seek."

"How?" Hazel bit back at her. "How is that possible?" All at once he raised himself to his feet, even though he felt unsteady as he did so. He towered over Salem, and yet he still felt impossibly small when he was beside her. She just had an aura about her that was so strong that it was just _impossible_ to try and ignore. "I want my sister back. How can you help with that?"

Salem eyed him. "Would you like to hear a story?"

"What good would a story do?"

She blinked. "I think that once you heard it, you would understand." Salem answered him. "Because there is a way to get your sister back."

"That's—"

Salem offered him her hand once more. "If you are willing to listen, you and I have much to discuss. I believe that the two of us could come to an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial."

Against his better judgment, against every cell in his body _screaming_ at him not to do it, Hazel took Salem's hand.

When she led him away from the forest, Hazel nearly broke, but he carried on with her.

When she sat him down and began to explain her story, he didn't know that he could believe her.

Days began to pass by Hazel, but the haze in his mind began to clear bit by broken bit. He stayed close to Salem, and didn't even consider going back to Vale for a second beyond those sudden, sharp spikes of anger that he would get which told him to return there to find Ozpin.

No clear image of what he would do there ever formed in Hazel's mind, just that he wanted Ozpin _dead._

And then Salem brought him to the pool of life, the domain of a dead and long forgotten god.

And then she brought him to the pools of grimm, the domain of another forgotten god.

It was then that she made him her promise, to give him back his sister, to let him have a life again without people pulling children to their deaths.

The only thing that he had to do was swear himself to her.

Knowing that he had nothing else, Hazel went ahead and did just that.

When he made his promise, Salem _smiled_ and for just a second, Hazel could have sworn that he'd seen Gretchen smiling on beside her, bright and impossibly sweet with eyes like honey and the warmth of home.


End file.
